


patient love

by boxerzayn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Winter, its all niall figuring zayn out and stuff idk, this is like super short too but its cutesy and fluffy and nialls so smitten!!!!!!, why cant i write proper things with like more than a couple of 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxerzayn/pseuds/boxerzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>niall wonders why zayns flat is so cold</p>
            </blockquote>





	patient love

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually one of my favourite works even though its real short and the end is so sappy that its gross

niall looks up at the ceiling. he’s been awake for enough time for his eyes to re-adjust to the darkness and he can spot the small cracks in the ceiling paint.  
he’s spent enough days in the apartment now, to realise that zayn hasn’t really fixed anything or made it like a home for himself here, even though he bought it over a year ago. if it was his flat, niall would put a little bright colours on a few walls and put in more than two chairs around the table in the kitchen and maybe hang up a funny painting on the inside of the toilet door.  
but zayn seems to like it like this, with only the furniture he very needs, pale, and things stapled in piles and the smell of smoke that doesn’t really suit the cold air in the rooms.  
(“fecking hell, why is it so cold in here?” was the first thing niall had said when he walked in and zayn had looked at him like if he was contemplating on offering a sweater but decided on not, just shrugged and mumbled something niall hadn’t heard properly.)  
niall’s stayed in zayns flat with him for about three days now, and he has during the time learnt a few things about zayn.  
1\. that he has to sleep without his socks. if he wears socks he dreams nightmares.  
2\. he drinks his tea without sugar and milk but almost completely cooled of. (“man, you might as well buy ice tea, it’s less effort; you don’t have to use the kettle and everything.”  
“shut up, niall. it’s not that cold. i just don’t want it to burn my tongue.”)  
3\. he hates smoking, as much as he’s addicted to it. (“i don’t like the way i’m hooked, you know? i can’t decide if i’m gonna have a fag or not, i just have to if i have to, and i- i don’t like not being in control.”)  
niall thinks about those few words alot. he thinks that that’s the thing with zayn; he wants to be in control. he doesn’t want to have bad dreams and he doesn’t want to burn his tongue and he doesn’t want anyone fucking him over. (“i got dumped once, see. well i’ve been dumped lot’s of times, offcourse, but she… she dumped me for real, and i loved her and… it was tough, it was. um.” niall hadn’t really known what to say then, so he had just nodded like he understood and encouraged zayn to continue explaining.  
“yeah, so. she broke up with me and she had been my sunshine, always been so bright, and when she was gone i was sure that, that the sun couldn’t shine anymore. i don’t really wanna, y’know, get close to someone like that again… and then have a part of me washed away… with them, then. y’know?”)  
niall feels bad for zayn. it’s sad how someone who’s so beautiful and talented with all his paintings and just the way he has with words, how someone only nineteen, already has slowly erased everything that could possibly hurt him, and making himself numb and lonely on the way.  
he turns over on his stomach on the squeaky sofa. pulls the sheets and the blanket tighter around him, and jesus christ is it cold in here.

he lies like that for about twenty minutes before he finally gets up, with a shaky breath and a shaky heartbeat and a shaky vague voice inside of him telling him to walk to zayns room.  
the floorboards squeak as he tiptoes across the apartment on cold toes but when he enters the bedroom zayn is peacefully sleeping on his bed, having noticed nothing.  
he’s so beautiful like this, because he isn’t hiding anything, niall thinks. his face is completely relaxed and for a moment he looks many years younger, hair floppy and soft on his forehead and thick black lashes resting on his cheekbones and lips pouty and with a thin line of dried spit along the bow of his upper lip.  
it should be gross.

niall walks around the bed quietly, softly slips down on the thin, hard, cold madrass behind the fragile, bony body.  
zayn sighs heavily and niall freezes for a second, thinks no, no, no, this is terribly wrong, but zayn seems to still be asleep and he thinks that yeah, this is what the boy has to do if he can’t bother to have a nice 20 degrees celcius in his goddamn apartment when his new friend comes over for the weekend.  
he wrapps his arms around zayn then, allows himself to take a deep breath and zayn smells like gucci and smoke and hair and it doesn’t smell cold. his back agains nialls chest doesn’t feel cold, and after a few minutes it almost feels too hot, the air there inbetween them.  
niall pulls away ever so slightly, so there’s a centimeter of tense air between them and even though zayn’s asleep niall is sure he can feel the too-quick heartbeat vibrating out from nialls chest on his back.  
zayn doesn’t wake up though, and niall feels warmer than he has in days in this chilly apartment, and he falls asleep with a silly grin on his face buried in zayns soft neck.  
-  
niall has forgotten all about last night’s brave trip to zayns bedroom when he wakes up to two big brown eyes. “niall.”  
“erhm. zayn.”  
niall exepects some rant about are you out of your mind niall we’re just friends or atleast a what the fuck but zayn just leans in, presses soft, sleep-swollen lips to his in a lazy kiss that makes niall feel like he’s a fucking prince, even though he’s on an uncomfortable too-small bed with a cold morning-smelly boy who can’t even drink his tea properly.  
but it’s perfect, those few seconds, and niall is thinking too much, has to remember to feel instead, because this slow kiss is something he never wants to let slip out of his memory.

zayn pulls away, eyes anxious now, but niall smiles. “you realise somthing?” he mumbles and his morning voice cracks but it makes zayns eyes crinkle in a smile.  
“realised quite alot, actually.” zayn whispers, as if there is someone else here and he wantes only niall to hear. and, sure. niall likes keeping secrets when it’s between someone as beautiful as zayn.  
“you asked me about why i always kept everything so cold?” he asks. niall nodds, his eyes not letting zayns face go.  
“yeah. well. i’ve got this thing where i think everything’s gonna burn me. like she burned me, that one time.”  
his voice is barely a sound those last words and niall can’t help but stretch out a sleepy finger and touch zayns lip, make his mouth twist into a faint smile.  
“anyways”, zayn shruggs, “i’ve realised that not everything will burn me. some things are good when they’re warm. some things need to be warmed up a bit and i… need to let them.” he smiles. “my bed, for example.”  
“and your couch” niall whines and zayn laughs then, and they’re so close that his laughter almost falls into nialls mouth and becomes nialls laugh too.  
zayn blinks slowly through a smile then, and mumbles “you’re sunshine niall. and you’re addictive, but in a good way. you smell like peach shampoo, not smoke. you’re warmth and i, i… i could use a litte warmth, couldn’t i?”  
niall has had those words on his tongue without really knowing it, for days, he realises now. doesn’t know what to reply; can’t come up with something cheesy enough for the situation. so he does something even cheesier. he kisses zayn on the mouth and it’s full tongue and teeth and hitching breaths and warmth warmth warmth.


End file.
